He Loved Her
by Margaret Barrie
Summary: Albus views his life without Minerva by his side.


The line "The heart did not exist solely for the purpose of pumping blood." was taken from Downton Abbey.

Please review! Thank you!

~Margaret

They were never together, but that didn't mean that he didn't love her.

She may have loved someone else, but that didn't mean he didn't love her.

She may have had children with someone else, but that didn't mean he didn't love her.

She might have hurt him so badly, without knowing so, but that didn't mean he didn't love her.

He should have asked her out when he had the chance, because he loved her, but he didn't and he regretted it.

He should have confessed his love for her, when she was about to get married. But he didn't and he should have.

He should have stopped their marriage on her wedding day, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring his heart on to ruin her chance at love even though it was with someone else because… he loved her.

She might have left him to raise a family, but he never stopped loving her.

When she returned to teach years later, he, who was now past his prime, was overjoyed, because she was back. After all that waiting, she had finally returned. She may have changed slightly, but she was still the same woman he had fallen in love with years ago.

Her fair ebony hair was still as black as ever, except a few strands of gray hair that represented her aging. Her emerald eyes, oh God, her eyes, they were one of her many physical characteristics that stood out. He couldn't stop staring at her, because she was just too beautiful to resist, and he loved her for that.

"Oh, Albus! It's wonderful to see you again. It's been too long!"

Her voice! Her voice was like an angel's, sooth and silky. Her voice was melodious yet fierce. His name sounded so specialas it rolled off her tongue, the sweet lilt of her Scottish brogue making him hope that she would keep saying his name.

The way she walked, it looked as if she owned the school, a straight back and a fast pace. She showed authority, she showed power, and she showed love and affection for the students. It was one of her many virtues. After all, she was a virtuous woman, a virtuous woman with moral principles, high standards, fair judgment, and in her own way, beautiful, inside and out.

She was diligent. She showed such zeal and flair when she taught. She commanded the classroom with ease and grace. Of course, she would have to be unyielding at times when a student was acting foolishly. She didn't tolerate fools and they sometimes wouldn't tolerate her, she was known as the austere professor among the student population. However, she would be compassionate and understanding whenever it was requested.

Her husband passed away a few years after they had moved into the school. Never did she once show one ounce of emotion of her loss. She acted as if nothing had happened at all, she continued teaching, but the passion that had once flared inside her had burnt out. She was as inflexible as ever; she would take away unnecessary house points for small mistakes, detentions for talking in class. She would be called illiberal.

He could sense that, the friendliness that they had once shared, disappear. He missed her. She was so close, yet so far. But he left her alone, because he knew that only time would heal her wound.

And he was somewhat right.

It had taken months, but she came back. The fire of passion that had once danced in her burnt wildly again. She turned back to her moral principles and fair judgments. Personally, the students were relieved when she stopped taking away house points for mistakes and giving detentions for asking for help from their fellow classmates.

But no one was more relieved than he was. They began their nightly chess games, a getaway from the real world. They both had different motives. Her motive was simple. It was to capture his King and win the game. His motive was not as simple. It was to capture her and win her heart.

He made small gestures to show his love for her. He brought her to the Great Hall for breakfast every morning. He would wait outside her room at precisely a minute before eight, she would come out at eight, and they would walk to the Great Hall together. However, she saw this only as an act of kindness and accepted it, thinking that it was nothing more than friendship.

He gave her flowers: violets, daisies, marigolds and roses. She accepted them with gratefulness. Of course, she did get quite suspicious with his actions, but she never expressed her suspicions.

Then there was the Yule Ball, he asked her to accompany him to the ball, she said yes believing that there was no motive. How wrong she was.

They danced and danced until they were both exhausted and light-headed from all the spinning. He brought her out to the garden, where Pomona Sprout had placed and decorated all the plants. They sat down on a bench, she, marveling at the plants and the sky and he, marveling his ulterior motive of bringing her into the gardens.

And then it happened.

He pulled her face to his by her chin, and he kissed her, full on the lips.

That moment didn't last very long because she pulled back, pushed him away and slapped him hard on the cheek. He looked at her, bewildered at her reaction. Surely, by accepting their morning walks to the Great Hall, their nightly chess games, the flowers and his invitation to the Yule Ball, she would accept him too.

She did accept him, as a friend. She accepted all those despite the warning signs that flashed in her head. She needed time, she told him. She needed time because only time could mend her broken heart, not love, even though she believed that the heart did not exist solely for the purpose of pumping blood.

She couldn't just let her husband go, it would be disrespectful to him. So she would let her heart pump blood only as time helped her mend her broken heart.

She told him, not yet. He would have to wait. No matter how long it took. But she promised him, that there would be a time when they would be together.

That time never came.

Months after the incident, she was killed by Lord Voldemort himself. She was tortured to death.

He grieved for her.

They were never together, but that didn't mean that he didn't love her.

She may have loved someone else, but that didn't mean he didn't love her.

She may have had children with someone else, but that didn't mean he didn't love her.

She might have hurt him so badly, without knowing so, but that didn't mean he didn't love her.

He should have asked her out when he had the chance, because he loved her, but he didn't and he regretted it.

He should have confessed his love for her, when she was about to get married. But he didn't and he should have.

He should have stopped their marriage on her wedding day, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring his heart on to ruin her chance at love even though it was with someone else because… he loved her.

She might have left him, but he never stopped loving her.

Albus Dumbledore loved Minerva McGonagall, wasnt't that enough?

 **Reviews please! Thanks!**


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